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Full text of "To The Lighthouse"

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evening, one after another the sounds die out,
and the harmony falters, and silence falls. With
the sunset sharpness was lost, and like mist rising,
quiet rose, quiet spread, the wind settled; loosely
the world shook itself down to sleep, darkly here
without a light to it, save what came green suffused
through leaves, or pale on the white flowers by
the window.

[Lily Briscoe had her bag carried up to the
house late one evening in September. Mr.
Carmichael came by the same train.]


Then indeed peace had come. Messages of
peace breathed from the sea to the shore* Never
to break its sleep any more, to lull it rather more
deeply to rest and whatever the dreamers dreamt
holily, dreamt wisely, to confirm—what else was
it murmuring—as Lily Briscoe laid her head on
the pillow in the clean still room and heard the sea.
Through the open window the voice of the beauty
of the world came murmuring, too softly to hear
exactly what it said—but what mattered if the
meaning were plain?—entreating the sleepers (the
house was full again; Mrs. Beckwith was staying
there, also Mr. Carmichael), if they would not
actually come down to the beach itself at least to lift